Birth Control

My children are on some sort of rampage. The next phone call I make with either be to child services to come take these people away, or to my gynecologist to have my tubes tied.

Sunday was a big day for my family. Our church held what's called stake conference, or a gathering of the smaller congregations from my town and the surrounding areas. This is always a fun time to be in contact with friends from an hour or two away that we don't always see often. Even better, however, one of our church's twelve apostles, a relatively important figure in our faith, was attending the conference. This hasn't happened where I live in 16 years. We. were. excited.

Naturally, wanting it to be a spiritual, uplifting day, I pictured our family sweetly getting ready for church and riding to the chapel in the car singing songs. You know, something that's almost never happened in my home.

Nope.

My husband ended up having to leave for the meeting two hours early to take care of some business that surfaced, leaving me to get the kids and myself ready and there on time. Almost as soon as the door clicked to signal his departure, the baby started using the vacuum attachment as a trumpet and Jackson commenced his newest dance routine. When I got that settled down and herded them upstairs to get church clothes on, the baby made his way to the bathroom and then started scrubbing the garbage can with my toothbrush.

I took the toothbrush, and a major fit commenced, all around poor Jackson, who actually was trying to get his hair to lie flat. In between my taking the pilfered toothbrush and chucking it in the garbage permanently, Matthias fell over and knocked his head on the toilet bowl.

Let's just say "Love at Home" wasn't playing in the background by this point.

We somehow survived the rest of getting ready, and made it to church where things continued to stay at a low status quo. My husband ended up taking the baby out about 30 minutes into the meeting, never to return. Jackson waited 15 more minutes than that to start peppering me with questions about when we'd get to go home and eat. By the time we left, I was tense from the top of my head to my shoulders, and hurt so badly that I was dizzy.

Now that it's Tuesday, these kids are no better. Matthias ate  a loose piece of licorice and the sugar made it to his system in record time, Jackson is twirling everywhere, and I'm holding a wooden spoon over my head like a samurai. I'm not sure what prison is like, but I just may see if the sheriff would be willing to do me a favor and lock me up for awhile.